


embrace the deception (learn how to bend)

by jessewrites



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, psych au, soccer cop - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:47:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2127351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessewrites/pseuds/jessewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I didn’t do anything!” Beth insists, “I swear!”</p><p>“Then explain how you knew everything that happened?”</p><p>Beth opens her mouth, desperately tries to think of something, some excuse. She remembers the woman from the lobby- she was talking about some clairvoyant or something.</p><p>“I- I’m a psychic.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It is six thirty-seven in the evening, and Beth Childs has just solved a murder. She’s done it while eating dinner (she’s ordered pizza, third time this week) and watching Channel Eight news. They’re interviewing a suspect, and he’s obviously guilty- he’s fidgeting with his hands, pausing between sentences, not looking the interviewer in the eye. Standard signs of a liar.

Ten minutes later, she’s hung up the phone and settled in to eat her pizza and generally do nothing all night (She’ll collect her reward for the tip in the morning).

Come next morning, that’s not exactly what happens. Beth walks (swaggers, really) through the door of the police station, already trying to get the attention of the woman at the front desk. Never mind that she’s on the phone, or that she’s waving Beth to a wooden bench across the room.

“Excuse- Excuse me?” Beth asks, leaning a bit over the counter. “I’m Beth Childs? I, uh, I called in a tip yesterday? I’m here for my reward?”

The woman waves at the bench again, and Beth sighs, but walks over to sit down. There’s a man sitting there, a big, burly, biker-type guy. Beth scans her eyes over him quickly- from the unfortunate tattoo on his forehead to the flakes of paint and glass on his pants.

“What’d you do,” Beth asks, “Bust up your ex-wife’s car?”

“Her new boyfriend’s,” the guy answers gruffly.

“And you’re going in for interrogation?” Beth says, smiling a little. The man simply nods, to which Beth replies, “You might want to brush the evidence off your pants.”

Tough Guy glances down at his leg, then swipes the glass off his pants, mumbling some sort of “Thank you”. Beth almost opens her mouth when she notices that most of the glass has fallen into his boot, but doesn’t say anything. She sits in silence until an officer comes over, a young guy who looks like he spent much too long on his hair this morning. His name plate reads Dawkins, and Beth makes a mental note to remember it.

He’s bringing her to an interrogation room, where his partner (another young man) is already waiting. She knows this is a little bit odd, but she brushes it off, telling herself they probably just want to confirm the information.

The man, Dawkins, walks around the table to sit in a chair opposite Beth and she can’t help but notice how his hand rests for a beat longer than necessary on his partner’s shoulder- they’re definitely an item.

“Where were you,” Dawkins begins, revealing a heavy British accent, “-the night of the murder?”

“I was- what? I’m a suspect?” Beth says.

“You’re our lead suspect,” Dawkins’ partner says.

“But I gave you the guy!”

“He had a partner.”

There’s a pause, before Dawkins jumps in again. “You say you can read guilt from TV interviews?”

“You can’t?” Beth replies.

“Be quiet.”

“Where were you?” Dawkins repeats, leaning over the table until he’s only a few inches away from Beth’s face.

Beth starts to stammer out some sort of reply, but she’s cut off by the partner again.

“Maybe a few days in the holding cell will motivate you to talk,” he says, prompting Beth to stand up. Before she can do anything, there’s a pair of handcuffs around her wrists.

“I didn’t do anything!” Beth insists, “I swear!”

“Then explain how you knew everything that happened?”

Beth opens her mouth, desperately tries to think of something, some excuse. She remembers the woman from the lobby- she was talking about some clairvoyant or something.

“I- I’m a psychic.”

“A psychic,” Dawkins says. “Really.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t lie about having the _gift_.”

“Prove it.”

“Well,” Beth says, “You and your partner are sleeping together.” Dawkins’s face stiffens, and Beth goes on, turning to point at the woman from the lobby, who at some point had joined their little group. “Your… father would be very proud of you.”

“You spoke with him?” the woman gasps.

“I did,” Beth says, smiling at her, and then, to Dawkins, “You believe me now?”

He grumbles some sort of reply, but it doesn’t sound like “no”.

Beth’s leaving the station with a cocky grin on her face when she’s stopped by someone.

“Hey,” he says, and Beth turns around to see a man standing on the steps. “I’m Interim Chief Bell, and apparently you’re a psychic?”

“Yeah,” Beth says, “Why?”

“Because I’ve got a case we could use a miracle on.”

“You’re hiring me on a case?” Beth asks.

“If you want to work with us.”

“Hell yeah!” Beth says, and then, “Uh, I mean, of course! I’d love to.”

Twenty minutes later, Beth’s leaving the station for a second time, after being briefed on this case. It’s a standard murder (not something Beth thought she’d be thinking about today). A college girl was found dead in her apartment, and it looks like she was poisoned. Lead suspect is her boyfriend- according to the victim’s sister, they’d been arguing for weeks.

As soon as Beth gets home, she calls Sarah.

“Dude, I think I know what my next job’s gonna be.”

“What?” Sarah asks.

“How do you feel about starting a business?”

“Jesus, Childs, I’m not- you’re not dragging me into some idiot plan.”

“But Sarah! I accidentally became a detective today, kind of, so we should totally, like, open a private office.”

“You what?”

“I, uh, kind of- the Toronto PD thinks I’m psychic. They hired me on a murder case.”

“Beth, I can’t-“

“Sarah! Please!”

There’s a pause, and Sarah sighs and says “Fine. I’ll help you.”

“Thanks,” Beth says, “You’re the best! Meet me at your apartment in twenty.”

Sarah starts to respond, but Beth’s already hung up.

…

“You broke into my apartment?”

“No, Sarah. I remembered where the key was. There’s a difference.”

Sarah sighs, shaking her head at Beth. “I can’t believe I agreed to help you on this.”

“Come on!” Beth says. “I already figured it out! The sister did it. It’s obvious.”

“Is it?” Sarah asks.

“Well, yeah,” Beth scoffs. “She poisoned the victim’s coffee when she visited. See, their dad was dying, and most of his money was going to the victim, so if she was _dead_ -“

“Okay, cool. Are you gonna call this in to the police?”

“No, Beth. I go to the station, have a ‘vision’- I’m psychic, remember? So I have a psychic vision, and boom, I solved it, it’s a miracle.”

Not an hour later, that’s exactly what happens, and Beth is congratulated for her first case solved.

Dawkins is there, and he’s half-glaring at her the whole time, although his partner is smiling.

Beth gracefully accepts all the praise, even if she’s mouthing “I told you so” at Sarah every ten seconds. Finally, after a few more minutes of awkward small talk and “thank you”s, Beth is on the road, Sarah following behind Beth’s motorcycle in her own car.

…

“Tah-dah!” Beth says, throwing her arms up for emphasis.

“You got yourself an _office_?” Sarah asks. “And you called it  _Psych_? As in, ‘we’re lying to you, and to the police department!’”

“Correction,” Beth says, “I got _us_ an office. Your name’s on the lease too. And no,  _Psych_  as in Psych- _ic_. Get it?”

Sarah sighs, but she’s holding back a grin.

“Dude, check it out!” Beth says, unlocking the door.

Sarah wanders in behind her, and she can’t help but wonder if this will actually be f _un._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may notice a distinct lack of Alison in this chapter, but I promise you'll see her soon!


	2. Chapter 2

Someone’s sitting in Beth’s seat. This will not do, and Beth’s taken it upon herself to fix it. 

“Excuse me? You’re, uh, you’re sitting in my seat.” 

The woman on the stool looks up, and Beth starts looking her over before she can think against it. She has cats- two of them, Beth thinks. White and grey, judging by the hairs on the woman’s sleeves and pants. She’s not the most confident person- she’s hunched over, her bag resting on her knees as opposed to on the ground. She has a good relationship with her family, assuming the couple in the picture she has in her purse is her parents. 

“Oh, am I?” she says. “I’m sor- wait, you’re not one of those weird people who come to the same restaurant, sit in the same seat, and eat the same food every day, are you?” 

“No,” Beth scoffs. “I was sitting there. See, I ordered a coffee,” and Beth points to the half-empty mug on the counter. “And then I went outside to get a paper,” and she waves the paper in her hand. “And I came back, and you were sitting here.” 

By this time, Beth has sat down on the stool next to the woman, any real anger long forgotten. 

“This is the part where you smile and say ‘hello, you’re kinda cute’.” Beth says, smiling herself.

“I really can’t talk to you right now,” the woman says, her voice a little stiff. “I mean, I usually love meeting new people, but- hold on, are you _flirting_ with me?” 

“Maybe I am,” Beth says, “you decide.” 

“See, now we’ve already talked way more than I wanted to.” 

“Can I at least get a name to work with? If you’re not going to talk to me, I’ll do it myself.” 

“Alison,” she says, “Alison Hendrix.” 

“Alison,” Beth says, grinning, “Great name.” 

She adopts a high-pitched, slightly nasally voice that is apparently supposed to sound like Alison. “ _Oh, thank you! So, what’s your name?”_

“I’m Beth.” 

“ _Beth! What an amazing name! So, Beth, what do you do for a living?”_

_ “ _ I… bounce around. Kind of working odd jobs, lately. What about you?” 

“ _I work a day job. I don’t live with my parents, though- I’m way too good for that. I do live with my cats, though- white and grey. They’re very affectionate.”_

Alison – real Alison – jumps in here. “Okay, fine, you’re good. But in your portrayal of me, I sound like I’m in high school.” 

“Well, in my portrayal of you, you only have a high school education.” 

Alison looks mildly offended, and Beth starts again. “Okay, okay, smarten you up. College girl, yeah? Graduated early, top of your class?” 

Alison looks at the counter, trying to hide a grin, just as someone walks into the diner. She stiffens, her hands immediately going for something in her bag. 

“Oh my God, you’re a cop,” Beth whispers. 

“I’m not a cop!” 

“You’re totally a cop! The position, so you could see the door, the way you got all defensive when scary guy walked in- it all adds up! You’re totally a cop, oh my God!” Beth is almost bouncing with excitement, when Alison asks, “Could you do me a favor?” 

“What’s that?” 

Alison’s not whispering anymore when she says “Duck!” 

Beth bends down, and suddenly the little diner is full. There are police officers surrounding the man, including Dawkins- he glares at Beth briefly before handcuffing the man. Alison’s drawn a pistol, as if she would shoot him (she’s not going to, of course- her hands are shaking like a leaf). 

After a few seconds, Dawkins and his crew have led the man out of the diner, presumably to be arrested, and Alison and Beth have sat back down. 

“First time drawing your weapon?” Beth asks. 

“Maybe.”

 Beth smirks, handing a credit card to the waiter who’s asked for the bill. “I better be going,” she says. 

Alison doesn’t say anything except “Goodbye!”

…

Beth’s yelling at the television, for the third time in a half hour. “There’s no way they’ll be able to resolve everything, Sarah! Not with one episode left!” 

“Remind me again why it was a good idea to get a TV for the Psych office?” Sarah calls back from the other room. 

“Sarah!” Beth half-whines. “I’m in serious emotional distress right now! You should be supporting me!”

 Sarah sighs, walking over to join Beth on the couch. “Aren’t you supposed to be solving a murder?” she teases. 

“Not right now,” Beth says. “ _Recreation and Parks_ only has one episode left! One!” 

“Oh yeah,” Sarah says. “That changes _everything._ ”

 “It does!”

 Sarah rolls her eyes. “You’ve been trying to get in the audience of the show for what? Eight seasons?” 

Beth sighs. “You know it.” 

Sarah’s half-grinning when she says, “What would you say if I told you I had two tickets to the filming of the _live_ series finale?” 

Beth stands up, her eyes deathly serious. “If you’re lying to me, I will kill you.” 

“Nope,” Sarah holds up a printed sheet of paper. 

“Sarah Manning, I think I’m in love with you.” 

Sarah laughs, smirking at Beth. “No need for that, Childs. Just give me half your next paycheck and I’ll consider it even.” 

“Shit, really?” 

“No, you idiot.” 

…

 One week later, Beth is almost squealing as she and Sarah wait in line to get into the studio. “I still can’t believe you did this, Sarah.” 

“Of course I did,” she says. “What kind of best friend doesn’t take someone to see their favorite TV show end?” 

Beth laughs, grinning even wider (if that’s possible). 

The episode is perfect, at least according to Beth. She laughs, she cries, and Sarah is thoroughly confused the whole time. Apparently one of the main characters died (he’s shot by the man who was his wife’s high school sweetheart. He still had feelings for her or something. Sarah doesn’t get it.). 

They’re just leaving, and Sarah’s laughing at the dopey grin on Beth’s face, despite the tears on her cheeks, when they hear someone screaming. 

“That’s not… that’s not part of the show, is it?” 

“No,” Beth says. “Should we check it out?” 

“Probably.” 

By the time Beth and Sarah finally find the source of the scream (one of the actor’s dressing rooms), there’s a fairly large crowd gathered. Multiple people are crying, and there’s generally an air of tragedy. 

“I know what happened here,” Beth mutters. 

“What?” 

“He was murdered.”

“Not everything is a murder, Beth!” 

“Come on, Sarah,” Beth says. “There are marks on his neck. He was obviously strangled. I’m calling Dawkins.” 

“Who?” 

“Head detective of the Toronto PD. You met him, remember?” 

Sarah answers, but Beth’s already on the phone. A few minutes later, she hangs up, saying “They’re on the way.” 

The police show up after about ten minutes of general chaos among the crowd. 

“What’s going on?” someone says, and Beth realizes it’s Alison. From the diner. _She must be Dawkins’ new partner,_ Beth thinks. Before she can call out anything, someone has already told Dawkins and Alison what happened. 

“It’s crazy, huh?” Beth says, sidling up to Alison.

 “It’s terrible. Someone’s _dead_.” 

“Yeah, but it’s _exciting._ ”

 They spend a few more minutes poking around, asking people what they saw, things like that, and then they’re on the way to the police station.

 …

 “We’re on a case, Sarah!” Beth says from the passenger seat. “An actual case! Together!”

 Even Sarah’s smiling, even when Beth yells at her that she just missed the turn.

 It’s a half hour before they actually sit down to start trying to solve anything. 

“What do we know?” Beth asks, looking up at Dawkins, who’s’ begun to flip through papers and files on his desk. Alison standing next to the desk- they’re definitely partners. 

“Benjamin Poole,” Alison says. “He was an actor on the show. They found him dead. The coroner’s still working on a time of death.”

 “He played James on the show,” Beth jumps in. “In the last episode, his character actually killed the character who married his ex-girlfriend. It was really intense, and-” 

“That’s _fascinating_ , Childs,” Dawkins says sarcastically. He opens his mouth to speak, before he’s cut off by Alison. 

“Hold on, his character _killed_ someone? Could that be, like, motive?” 

“That’s- that’s good,” Beth says, smiling at Alison. 

“Who played the character that died?” 

“Um, James Brennan,” Beth says, fast enough to get a weird look from Dawkins. 

“Did he have any, uh, any grudges?” Alison asks. “Anyone, um, out for his head or something?” 

“Well, uh, Brennan had been saying he could ‘kill the guy’ for weeks,” Beth says, adding air quotes for emphasis. “He said that Poole ‘stole his spotlight’ or whatever. He seemed genuinely angry about it.” 

“Do you think he’s capable of actually killing someone?” 

“I guess, yeah,” Beth says, shrugging. “So, what’s our next move?” 

“I guess we interrogate him,” Dawkins says, “Hendrix, c’mon.” 

Beth gets up to follow, but not before Dawkins spins around to say “You can watch, Childs. I’m not having you ruin my investigation.” 

Beth sighs, but follows, dragging Sarah along by her sleeve. 

It turns out that Dawkins isn’t really a very effective interrogator. He either gets fed up with the person and stops asking questions, or he gets sidetracked by some miniscule thing they said. It’s really not very productive. Alison’s a bit better. Shell start talking to the person, and if she’s lucky, after five or six minutes they’ll start to talk. Beth has faith in them, though, that they’ll eventually get better. 

A few minutes later, Dawkins is storming out, mumbling something about releasing the guy.

 “So he’s not guilty?” Beth pipes up a while later, after Brennan has been released and long since gone home. 

Dawkins just glares at her in response. 

They all go home that night. Beth is smirking at Sarah the whole drive, saying “So, what’d you think?” 

Alison is shaking her head and cursing herself for not solving the case. (She knows it’s impossible, on the first day, but she’d wanted to _do_ something). 

Felix is grumbling to himself about Beth, and _is it possible for her to be more annoying?_

…

__ It’s barely ten in the morning when Beth’s cell phone rings, so she’s barely awake. 

“Yeah?” she mutters, not bothering to look at the screen. “What d’you want, Sarah?” 

“It’s not Sarah. It’s Alison.” 

“Oh shit, Hendrix? The junior detective, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Still,” Beth says. “What d’you want?” 

“How fast can you get to the police station?” 

“Uh, twenty minutes? Thirty? Why?” 

“Dawkins wants you there,” Alison says, and then hangs up before Beth can respond. 

Beth rolls out of bed groaning, but she’s grinning by the time she calls Sarah. 

…

 “So why are we here?” Beth asks, leaning over Dawkins’ desk. “I’m never up before noon. This better be good.” 

“We found new evidence,” Dawkins says. “We’re going over to Brennan’s house to check it out. Alison thought you could be useful, do a _reading_ or whatever. I still think you’re completely bullshit, just to be clear.” 

Beth winks at Alison. “Glad to be of service.”

 Alison just rolls her eyes, and then they’re on their way. Beth, again, is substantially more excited than Sarah. 

They arrive at the house, a pretty standard suburban place. Beth and Sarah get there a few minutes after Dawkins and Alison, but they jog to catch up before Dawkins knocks on the door. When no one answers after three, four, five minutes, Dawkins turns to one of the officers behind him. He mutters something about kicking the door down, and Beth is pushed aside as he does. 

“Are you sure this is legal?” Beth pipes up.

 “If you wanna come, Childs, you better shut up.” Dawkins says. 

Beth sighs, but continues into the house, following Dawkins into the house.

Suddenly, there’s a scream from another room. 

“Alison! Are you okay?” Dawkins shouts, running to meet Alison. His words cut off abruptly when he enters the room and sees what caused Alison’s screams. 

James Brennan is slumped on the couch. 

“He’s dead,” Alison whispers. “Looks like poison.” 

The entire room falls silent, until Beth says, “I guess he didn’t commit the crime, then?” 

Dawkins just glares at her. “So, _psychic,_ who killed him, then?” 

Beth looks around nervously, looking desperately for something to tell her what happened. Her eyes settle on a letter next to Brennan’s hand, and a small box on the coffee table. She can pick out the words _thank you_ on the letter, and suddenly it falls into place. 

There was a girl, at the live filming. Beth remembers the snippet of conversation she heard between the girl and her friend. 

_ “I can’t believe they _ __ killed _Ryan!”_

_ “I know, right?”  _

_ “I wrote them letters! I told them not to- the fans hate it! I mean, I’m the president of the fan club, they should listen to me, right?”  _

_ “Of course!”  _

_ “Apparently it was Benjamin Poole’s idea! I don’t know if I can like him anymore.” _

_  “Right? I _ __ hate _him!”_

Beth brings her hands to her temples, closing her eyes and making odd noises as to generally cause a scene. “I’m getting a vision!” she yells, and Dawkins rolls his eyes, although Alison is watching attentively. 

“I’m getting a- a name.” Beth shouts. “Rebecca? No, not even close…. Jennifer? No… Juliet? Juliet! Smith… Scott…no, no… Spencer! Juliet Spencer!” 

Beth opens her eyes. “She’s the president of the _Recreation and Parks_ official fan club.” 

“And you know this why?” Dawkins asks. 

“Because I ran against her three years in a row,” Beth says, before continuing. “I’m sensing that she really didn’t like the fact that they killed Ryan on the show. So, she took things to the extreme and killed the actor whose idea it was to kill the character. Then, when Brennan here found out what she was doing, she realized that she couldn’t go to jail. So, she killed him, using poison that she hid in that box-” –Beth pointed to the “gift” on the coffee table- “under the guise of a ‘thank you’ letter to the actor for being on the show.”

 Beth smiles smugly, crossing her arms. 

“Not bad, Childs,” Dawkins admits. “Can you contact Spencer? Get her in for questioning?” 

Beth nods, and slowly everyone files out of the house. 

The next day, she gets a phone call from Dawkins.  “Spencer confessed,” he says. “She broke after the first question. They found ricin in the box she sent. Good work.” 

“It wasn’t me,” Beth reminds him. “It was the _spirits._ ” 

Dawkins hangs up on her. 

Beth’s grinning as she looks over at Sarah. “Two cases down,” she says, holding up her fist. Sarah fist-bumps her resignedly.

 “Really, Childs, are you never gonna stop doing that?” 

“Nope,” Beth says. 

Sarah rolls her eyes, saying, “I’m glad this is over. You’re bloody irritating on a case, and I’ve had enough of your TV shows to last a lifeti-” 

“Shh, Sarah!” Beth hisses, cutting Sarah off. “ _Doctor When_ starts in, like, two minutes!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth is Very Bisexual. Speed dating. Some very close talking.

Beth and Sarah have been working for the police station for nearly a month, and have almost a perfect track record. (It hasn’t done much with controlling Beth’s ego, but there are eight criminals in jail that wouldn’t be there otherwise, so Beth figures it’s fair.) 

Today, it is Friday afternoon, and Beth is waltzing into the police station, dragging Sarah behind her because precisely thirty-seven minutes ago, Beth received a call. 

“This case seems like your kind of thing,” Dawkins had said. 

“You say,” Beth says, glancing at a paper Dawkins had given her. “…that you were abducted by aliens?” 

The woman simply nods, and Beth looks at Sarah, rolling her eyes. “And you couldn’t… put on any clothes before you came here?” 

The woman shrugs. “The police told me to come with them, so I did.” 

Beth only nods, almost unconsciously letting her eyes move downward, before Sarah elbows her in the side. 

“So, uh, Miss Carson, what do you remember before you called the police?” 

The woman – according to the paper Beth is just now reading, her name is Eliza- takes a deep breath, and Sarah sighs. “Well, that afternoon I was getting my hair done, and-” 

“Where did you get your hair done?” 

“Just a little place- it’s called the Brass Ring?” 

Beth makes a note, and nods at her to finish her story. Among all the  _ums_ and  _uhs_ and unrelated tangents, Beth manages to find out a few things. After Eliza got her hair done, she went out to dinner at a “diner-slash-pub” down on Main street. After she finished eating, she went home. At some point, she blacked out, and woke up naked in a field outside of town. And later, when she’d tried to use her credit card to pick up lunch, the cashier had told her that it was maxed. 

Beth gives the standard “thank yous” and escorts Eliza out of the police station, Dawkins barking at her to put on some clothes before she comes back. 

Beth quickly relays all the information she has gathered to Dawkins. 

“So…. Where do we start?” Beth asks.

 “I never said you were on the case,” Dawkins begins, “but seeing as I have no one better to assign, I’d say start at the hair salon.” 

“Thanks, Fee!” Beth says, fishing her keys out of her bag while Dawkins glares at her. (Alison had told her Dawkins’ first name, and it would be a wasted opportunity if she didn’t use it.) 

“However, the salon is already closed. And they’re closed on Sundays. So come back Monday. Be here at eight.”

 Beth opens her mouth, almost says “how would you know,” before deciding that Dawkins’ hair is  _way_ too styled for your average barber. She simply groans something like “yes,” willing to sacrifice her breakfast-at-noon sleeping habits if it means she’s getting paid. 

“We are getting paid, though, right?” Beth checks. 

“Only when you solve the case,” Felix sighs. 

Beth smiles at him before leaving, Sarah a few steps behind her. 

“Are you excited?” Beth asks, closing the car door.

 “I guess, if you’d shut up about it for more than three seconds.” 

Beth doesn’t say anything. 

Monday morning, Beth’s actually managed to get up and to the station by seven forty-five. 

“So!” she says, clapping her hands. “Where do we start?” 

“I’d say the hair salon,” Felix starts, “ _especially_ since we’ve gotten two new victims- they both went to the same place.” 

“What?” Beth says. “There were two new victims in two days? Why didn’t you call me?”

 Felix ignores her, moving on. “So- Childs, you can check out the salon, while Hendrix and I do the  _real_ police work.” 

Beth doesn’t respond to his comment, and instead gives a pseudo-cheery “thanks, bye!” to Dawkins before heading out the door. 

Twenty minutes later, Beth is strolling into the hair salon with Sarah, cockily flashing some papers Dawkins had printed out for her and asking for Jennifer. 

It turns out that Jennifer is a hairdresser with short, spiky purple hair (purple!) and a New York accent. If Beth wasn’t on Official Police Business, she wouldn’t be above asking this woman out. But sadly, at the moment, she has a mission. 

“So, Jennifer,” Beth says, clearing her throat. “I’m Elizabeth Childs; head psychic for the Toronto PD. Eliza Carson comes here regularly? And she always sees you, and no other hairdresser?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And Casey Adams and Brendan Miller? They both saw you too?” Sarah jumps in here, her voice more rushed than Beth’s. 

“Yes. Is there a point to this?”

 “All three of these people were victims of credit card fraud in the last few days, and you’re the prime suspect.” 

“Way to be subtle, Manning,” Beth says. “I’ll take it from here.” 

“Did you steal these peoples’ credit cards?” she asks. “Everyone knows a hairdresser hears all the gossip.”

 “I-I didn’t do anything!” Jennifer stammers. “I swear.” 

Beth briefly closes her eyes, puts a hand to her temple. “She’s telling the truth.” She declares simply, already getting up from her chair. 

“Wait,” Sarah says. “Is there anything- anything else that could’ve connected the victims?”

 Jennifer paused for a moment, before finally saying, “Well, uh, they were all single? And I think they all did that speed-dating thing down at Ivan’s.” 

“Speed dating?” Beth asks, and Jennifer nods. “Thank you, you’ve helped a lot.” 

On their way to the police station, Beth calls Dawkins.

 “Maybe we should check out this speed dating thing,” she says. “I can go undercover; do a reading of everyone there. It’ll be great.” 

“Childs, Chief Bell won’t give us  _money_ to go on  _speed dates._  Anyway, I don’t even  _like_ girls.”

 “You’re a child.” 

Dawkins grumbles some more, but that evening Beth and Sarah are waiting in line with Dawkins and Alison outside of Ivan’s Genuine Italian Restaurant, along with about fifty other hopeful singles. 

Dawkins is still complaining under his breath, along with Sarah. 

The setup is pretty simple, as explained by Haley, Ivan’s wife and co-owner of the restaurant. The women sit on the inside of the tables, and the men rotate through each table. Each couple will have exactly four minutes to get to know each other, and then fill out a brief survey about their date. Haley will ring a bell, and the cycle repeats. 

Easy enough. 

Beth’s first date is a man with a rather impressive jaw line and mousy hair who introduces himself as Shawn. He’s nice enough, and although he might be a good “lets-go-for-coffee” date, he isn’t that interesting, and dating isn’t even her goal. She isn’t terribly heartbroken when the bell rings. 

A few more men cycle through, none of them particularly memorable. At some point, Beth notices Alison and Felix sitting at a table together, and stifles a laugh as one waitress urges them to talk.

 She’s jolted back to her own date when the bell rings, and yet another man sits down in front of her. In the first three seconds, she notices a wedding ring on his finger. One that matches the one worn by Haley. Something’s up. 

“Hello,” he says, his voice a little stiff, a little too intense. “Mary Lightly. You?” 

“Beth. And your name is really Mary? That’s unfortunate.” 

He rubs the back of his neck, sighing. “Yeah.” 

“Well, my last name is Guggenheim, so we’re kind of in the same boat with unfortunate names.” 

“That’s true,” Mary says awkwardly. “You could, like, change it. What’s your mother’s maiden name?” 

“Wilcowski.” 

“Oh.” Changing the subject, he says, “So, do you have any pets? What are their names?”

 Before Beth can even invent a response, he’s off again. “Where are you from? What was the name of the street you grew up on?”

 Beth’s almost put it together when the bell dings and Haley announces that this is tonight’s last date. 

There must be some sort of mistake, because Alison Hendrix is sitting in front of her. 

“I think I know what’s happening,” Beth says, quickly explaining to Alison what she’s suspecting. Alison starts to nod, starts to respond, but a final buzzer interrupts her.

 “Okay, everyone! Turn in your surveys!” Haley calls, her voice way too cheery. Alison and Beth hand in their surveys, and begin looking through the crowd, scanning for Dawkins. They’ve just found him, beginning to move across the room, when Haley calls them aside. She seems extremely excited about something. 

“Something has happened that has never occurred before here at Ivan’s!” Haley squeals. “Based on the surveys you turned in, you two are a one hundred percent match!” 

“Oh, uh, that’s nice,” Beth says, not bothering to ask how she figured this out so quickly. 

“Thank you,” Alison says politely. “But we’re coworkers, and a romantic relationship would be a mistake.” 

Haley seems a little off-put by Alison’s response, and shuffles away. “Thank you for coming!” she half-shouts. “We hope to see you next time! Have a nice night!” 

“Wait!” Beth yells, running up to the little podium set up at the front of the restaurant. “I have something to say!” 

The crowd stops, turns to look at Beth. “This restaurant isn’t what it seems,” she begins. “You’re all standing… in a crime scene.” 

Dawkins rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything to stop Beth. 

“All of you are in danger!” Beth goes on. “First of all, Ivan and Haley aren’t married. Haley is married to a Mary Lightly, and they’re all conspiring to steal your identities, and your money!” 

Haley seems furious, and Mary looks like he’s about to faint. 

“You’re lying!” Ivan shouts.

“I’m not!” Beth insists. “Three victims showed up last week, all slightly out of it, all with maxed credit cards that they didn’t remember maxing. Tonight, on my ‘date’ with Mary, he kept asking questions that seemed a little off, you know? What’s my mother’s maiden name, what are the names of my pets, what street did I grow up on- all common security questions for when you’re trying to activate a credit card.

They already have the victims’ credit card numbers, due to the handy $10 fee to participate, and since all three of the victims were a little… far-fetched in their beliefs, Haley was able to drug them in the complementary drinks and dump them in a field, sans clothes and most of their money. They immediately assumed aliens, and since no one believed them, Haley, Ivan, and Mary thought they were in the clear. Until now.” 

Here, Mary cracks, whimpering something Beth can’t quite make out, but definitely includes “it’s true”. Dawkins nods at Alison, and she handcuffs Ivan and Haley, while Dawkins gets Mary. 

Beth’s pretty damn proud of herself. 

Later, when Beth’s at the police station, doing the little bit of paperwork necessary to make things official, Alison walks in. 

“What you did in the restaurant,” she says, “That was pretty impressive.” 

Beth turns to look at Alison. “Thanks, I guess. It wasn’t me. It was the spirits.” She’s immediately aware of how close she and Alison are standing, how easy it would be to lean in and kiss her. She decides that this isn’t the worst idea she’s ever had.

 She’s not even an inch away from Alison’s lips when she stops her.

 “Beth, what are you doing?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Really? Because it doesn’t look like nothing. It looks like that thing I mentioned earlier.” 

“What’s that?” 

“A mistake.”

 “But I’m not trying to kiss you,” Beth says. 

“Then what are you doing?” 

“I call it... very close talking.” 

By now, they’ve gotten so close that Beth’s lips are just about resting on the space between Alison’s nose and her own lips, and she’s almost certain that Alison can hear her heartbeat. 

“So,” Alison says. “Do you, uh, have anything else to say?” 

“Mmm,” Beth murmurs, shaking her head.

“Okay then.” Alison steps back, and Beth says a polite goodbye before heading out.

 She’s still thinking about it when she gets home that night, and the next morning, and when she sees Alison the next day. 

Beth laughs it off, because she can’t fall for Alison Hendrix. 

That would be a  _mistake._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! as always, feedback is appreciated! uwu


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhymes. Riddles. A very unusual case.

It’s been almost three weeks since the speed dating incident, and Beth’s reputation (in her opinion) is better than ever. She’s even been recognized two or three times on the street. And, to top it all off, she’s gotten a lot closer to Alison. You might even call them friends. 

Life is good. 

Beth is strolling into the police station, and something seems off. Instead of the usual busy chatter, everyone is strangely hushed. Low conversations echo in every room, and Beth can only catch a few words as she walks to Dawkins’ office.

 “He’s back.” 

“Third time in five years.” 

“This is serious.” 

And a name, too. Mr. Yang- whoever that is-. She makes a note to ask Dawkins (or Alison, really, whoever she sees first) 

It turns out to be Alison, rushing around, looking like she barely has enough time to answer Beth’s question. She does anyway, even if she’s talking almost too fast for Beth to hear her. 

“Who’s Yang?” Alison says, her voice shrill and stressed. “Only one half of the Yin/Yang killers- the most prolific serial killers Toronto has ever seen. And they’re back, for the third time in five years. Before those five years, they had only reappeared once every decade or so. They’ve never been caught.” 

“So,” Beth says. “When do we start?" 

“ _You_ don’t,” Dawkins says, apparently having walked up behind Alison. “You can scuttle right along and leave this case to the real police.” 

Beth opens her mouth, but decides against a sarcastic remark. She simply nods and turns to walk out of the station.

 She calls Sarah on her way out. “You up for lunch?” 

“Did they kick you out again?” Sarah asks.

 “Of course not,” Beth scoffs. “No really though, lunch?” 

“Uh, sure.” 

“Nice! Meet me at that diner by the beach? The one with the great Jello?”

 “Sounds good,” Sarah says. 

Twenty minutes later Beth is seated at a wooden table across from Sarah, and she’s sipping from a diet Coke while waiting for her lunch (a simple burger and fries). 

She’s just started wondering when her food will actually arrive when her phone rings. 

“It’s Chief Bell,” she says. “Right now? Okay. I’m on my way.” 

“What was that about?” Sarah asks.

 “Let’s go,” is all Beth says, and she starts walking to the parking lot. 

… 

There’s a somber mood in the briefing, more serious than Beth is used to. When she walks into the room, Chief Bell is pointing at a slideshow at the front of the room, while Dawkins and Alison stand to the side.

 “There’s a note,” Chief says, clicking to a new slide. “left every time. It’s always a type of riddle or game- child’s play, if you will.” 

No one even acknowledges Beth and Sarah’s entrance. 

“So we’re tracking a serial killer,” Beth interjects, “who is a child?”

 “No,” says a man sitting at the side of the room. “Mark Rollins, by the way. Yang always plays games with his victims- it’s rather interesting, really. But the skills shown- marksmanship and cleverness and always being one step ahead of the rest-   this is certainly not a child.” 

“Okay,” Beth says. “What is this guy, Mr. Yang’s biggest fan?” (No one answers.) 

“What sort of riddle came this time?” Alison asks. 

“A fortune teller,” the chief says, holding up a small, folded piece of paper. 

“Is that… blood?”

 “We don’t think so,” the chief says. “Meant to look like blood, definitely, but not real.”

 “Can I look at that?” Beth says, before half-shoving her way to the front of the room. The chief hands over the fortune teller, and Beth quickly unfolds it, scanning the haphazard, barely-legible scribbles on each side. Beth is silent for a few moments, trying to make sense of it, fitting numbers and letters into patterns in her head when suddenly- 

“It’s an address.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, it’s into the city a little bit. 1784 Burton?” 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Mark says. “What would Yang want with a house- an apartment, really- in the middle of the city?” 

“Do you study this guy?” 

“Yes,” Mark says, and his tone is completely even. 

“We should check it out,” Alison says. 

“Are you sure?” Beth says. “He could be waiting for us there. Better to be, uh, safe.” 

Everyone turns to look because this is Not a Normal Thing and everyone knows it (Beth Childs is afraid). 

“We’re going,” Dawkins says. He looks over at Beth and adds, “You’re coming.” 

Beth follows begrudgingly. 

When their little crew (Alison, Beth, Dawkins, and Sarah, plus Mark) arrives at the address, a rather nondescript apartment building, Dawkins insists on going first. 

It’s dark inside the apartment.All the curtains are drawn, and pretty much everything is gray or black. 

There’s nothing to be found at first glance, so they start looking, overturning furniture and checking every corner.

 Alison is the one who finds it, wedged inside the box of a board game in the closet. She calls for everyone to come, and Beth is laughing the whole time.

“What’s so funny,” Dawkins says, and his voice sounds like his favorite glare. 

“A game,” Beth says. “This is all a  _game._ ” 

“ _We must talk,_ ” Alison reads. “ _and eat. Let’s have lunch. We’ll meet at one o’clock. Hickory dickory dock._ ” 

The words hang in the air for a few moments, no one quite sure what to make of them. 

“Nursery rhymes?” Dawkins says. “That doesn’t even make sense.” 

“This person knows Beth, yeah?” Sarah offers. “We, uh, we ate lunch at this one diner just, like, an hour ago. We’ve been going there for years. We could go there?” 

“I guess we don’t have any other leads,” Dawkins says. 

Beth speeds to the diner with Dawkins and Alison right behind her. She doesn’t tell Sarah, but she’s still scared as hell. This is a  _serial killer_ , a real, actual serial killer. And he’s got some weird thing for Beth. It’s not the most comfortable feeling. (It’s like, she thinks, when you’re in fifth grade and the creepy kid has a crush on you.) 

Beth puts aside her worries as she and Sarah pull into the diner’s parking lot, Dawkins and Alison a few seconds later, along with Mark. She jogs up to the table where she and Sarah had sat earlier (she figures that’s the best place to start), and quickly finds a note attached to the bottom of the table. There wasn’t, it seems, a fun or difficult place to hide this one. 

“ _Dirty little copy-cop_ ,” Beth announces. “ _You’re playing a dangerous game. Tick-tock-tick-tock. The game’s about to stop. Remember where you came from, your home and your beginning. And remember, this is cat-and-mouse, and you’re not the one who’s winning._ ” 

She pauses, taking in the last line. And then:

 “ _Good riddance, Elizabeth Childs_.”

 No one says anything until Beth breaks the silence. 

“That’s not even a good rhyme. What does ‘copy-cop’ even  _mean_?” she says, her voice pseudo-cheery, but her laughter is forced and thin. 

“Tick tock,” Dawkins says, holding up a metal stopwatch he must’ve found under the table. “It’s set for an hour and ten minutes. I have no idea what happens if it runs out, but I’m guessing it’s nothing good.”

 “Well, we had better solve the riddle then,” Alison says. “The first one said ‘the mouse runs up the clock’- like we’re the mouse, in that nursery rhyme. If he’s the cat…” She doesn’t finish her sentence. 

“ _’Your home and your beginning,_ ’” Beth mutters, trying to find any possible solution. She figures it’s probably not her literal home- that’d be too easy, and it wasn’t her “beginning”, either- she’d been adopted at age twelve. So she broadens her search, thinking about anything that might make sense. Her beginning- not of her life, but of her career? That would make it- 

“The police station!” Beth declares. “We have to go to the station.” 

Alison looks impressed by how fast Beth solved the riddle, and Beth gives her a (hopefully) charming smile.

 “Let’s go, then,” Sarah grumbles. 

The ride to the station is a quiet one. Beth is alone in the car this time (Sarah had told her to go on ahead, that she’ll catch up. Beth found it a little odd, obviously, but she didn’t press.)

 Beth drums her fingers against the steering wheel, trying to process what’d happened today. She hasn’t even  _done_ anything, but her heart’s beating a million miles an hour and for once it’s not because of Alison.

 She’s not sure she can beat this Mr. Yang.

 Beth pulls into the parking lot of the station, shaking her head in an effort to clear her mind. Alison and Dawkins are already out of their car, looking around, Mark wandering up behind them. 

It turns out Beth was right; there’s a small package on the front steps of the station. This time it’s Dawkins who gets to it first, holding up another stopwatch- this one only forty-five minutes.

 It suddenly hits her, before Dawkins even opens the note.

 “He’s got Sarah,” she says, and her voice is hollow. When she speaks again, she’s almost hysterical. It all falls into place- Sarah’d gone to the bathroom, but when she’d come back, she’d seemed a little off.  _Of course._  Beth should’ve noticed how tense her voice was, how she seemed almost afraid to move. “He’s gonna kill her, oh God...!” 

“What does the note say?” Alison says. “It could give us a clue to where Sarah is.” 

“ _Are you having fun yet_?” Dawkins reads, even his voice a little shaky. “ _You’re probably wondering where your friend is,_ Beth.  _I promise she’s safe… for now. Come on in- the water’s fine._  

“ _The clock strikes four, the mouse runs for the door, Hickory dickory_ dock _.”_

“It could be like-like- there’s a swimming pool around here, right? The water’s fine?” Alison says.

 “I guess it’s out best option,” Dawkins replies. 

“Yeah, uh, forget that- I’m not going,” Beth says, shaking her head. 

“What do you mean?”

 “I’m done- I’m done playing his little game. I solved his puzzles, fine; it was maybe even kind of fun. And sure, I didn’t do much, but I-I’m finished.” 

“But no one’s ever gotten this far,” Mark pipes up. “That’s why he’s still playing. It’s a sign of respect.” 

“But it isn’t, Mark,” Beth sighs. “You said it, didn’t you? He’s too good. He’s better than me. We never had a chance, okay? He’s gonna kill Sarah either way.” 

“Maybe, but maybe not, Beth. But if I know one thing, it’s that Elizabeth Childs does not just  _give up_.” 

“Tell you what, Alison,” Beth half-snaps. “The next time a  _serial killer_ calls  _you_ out, personally, you can pick up your pom-poms, and you can rally the troops yourself. I’m out.” 

“Beth, I-” 

Beth doesn’t hear Alison; she’s already stormed out.

 

 

Beth sits there, leaning over the handlebars of her motorcycle and pretending that no one can see her.  She tries to imagine a scenario where everything works out okay, but she knows she’s kidding herself. She has to _try,_ course, but everything in her is screaming at her that _you can’t do it._

A while later (Beth’s not sure if it’s twenty minutes or three days), her phone rings. 

“What is it, Dawkins?” she says, her voice low and tired.

 “It’s Alison. She’s- I think he took her.” 

“Who?” (Beth is sure she knows who, but she holds on to some shred of hope that she’s wrong.) 

“It’s Yang,” Dawkins says. Beth’s stomach drops. She almost instantly pushes away any doubts she had, because  _Alison’s life is in danger._

 “How much time is left?”

 “Uh- twenty-seven minutes.” 

“I’m on my way,” Beth says decidedly. “Do you know where she is yet? Is there another note?”

 “Yeah.” 

“Well, what does it  _say?_ ” 

Beth can hear some shuffling, and then Dawkins reading. 

“ _You told her she could trust you; you said you’d have her back._

“ _You’re running back and forth now, while she’s lying on the tracks._ ”

 “No,” Beth says.

 “What?” 

“Isn’t there a train station?” Beth says. “Like, five miles away from here?” 

“No,” Dawkins echoes. 

“I’m just saying,” Beth says. “This Yang guy likes to play games, make jokes. And what’s a cliché suspense flick without a girl tied to train tracks?” 

“I’ll get her,” Dawkins says. 

“I’m coming.” 

“No, you’re not. Sarah’s still out there, Childs. You don’t even know where she is.” 

“Of course I do. I’ll get Sarah. Obviously. What else would I do? How much time is left?” 

“Twenty-five minutes.”

 Beth hangs up without responding.

 She has no idea where Sarah is, so she kicks her mind into overdrive.

  _The water’s fine_ , but she’s not at the pool. Beth’s starting to panic. She can’t think of anywhere else that the note could be referring to, unless-

  _Hickory_ _dickory dock._

_Hickory_ _dickory_ dock.

“Oh my god,” Beth whispers, and she’s already kicking the kickstand out, turning the key. 

Not ten minutes later she arrives at the little marina, after having gone  _a little_ over the speed limit for most of the way. She parks in about four seconds, sprinting to the dock. The timer she set on her phone reminds her that she has about eight minutes left until… she still doesn’t know what. 

Just as she steps onto the wood, something catches her eye. It’s a person, crouching on a small hill in the parking lot. 

Beth knows it’s him.

 Or  _her,_ actually, looking closer. The woman’s hair is wild and blonde, and she’s wearing a dull green coat. Beth can’t tell if it’s for camouflage or simple for keeping warm. Beth realizes at once, why she stayed to watch. 

She likes to play games. 

And she stayed to see if Beth would come, to see if she’d won. 

It’s exactly what Beth would have done. It almost makes her respect Yang.

 She snaps back to attention, rushing to where Sarah (hopefully) is. 

“Sarah?” she calls. “Sarah, are you there?”

 There’s a sickening silence, but then, “Beth?”

“Oh, my God, Sarah, are you okay?”

 “I will be, as soon as I’m out of this mess! Took you long enough.” 

Six minutes, forty-three seconds. 

Beth quickly sets her phone on the dock and jumps in without thinking. It only takes her a few moments to locate Sarah, tied to the dock post behind her. 

“How did she get you here? Beth asks, treading water a few feet from Sarah. 

“She drugged me,” Sarah says simply, her voice breaking a little. “I should’ve fought her off, but she just came up on me-“ 

“It’s okay,” Beth says softly. “You’re okay.”

 She quickly fishes a pocket knife from her coat (a gift from her foster mother at age twelve; she’s carried it around since) and sets to work freeing Sarah. 

Four minutes, thirty-seven seconds. 

It barely takes a minute to cut through the ropes. Sarah and Beth climb, gasping, onto the dock, Beth glancing at her phone. 

Three minutes, fifty-two seconds. 

They sit there, against each other, for an eternity (or maybe a few minutes). Three minutes and fifty-two seconds later, Beth hears the waves slapping against the bottom of the dock, and she realizes what would’ve happened had she gone to get Alison. 

About five miles away, Alison Hendrix is sobbing into Dawkins’ shoulder, his arms around her. She’s sobbing because she’s afraid, because a train just blew past and it should’ve hit her. She’s sobbing because Beth didn’t save her (even though she knows that Beth was always going to get Sarah). 

Nothing is quite right anymore. Beth wonders if maybe that’s okay. 

Beth knows it will take weeks, months, to get everything back to normal. 

But Elizabeth Childs does not just  _give up_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took like eight million years to write, sorry about that! chapter five should come quicker.
> 
> feedback appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> delphine. a high-tech stakeout. the moment you've all been waiting for.

Delphine Cormier has never been caught. They say there’s no such thing as the perfect crime, but then again, she’s living proof of the contrary, isn’t she? She’s stolen priceless artifacts from people as protected as governors, and she’s always been careful to leave no evidence. So far, it’s been working. Her being a rather esteemed scientist doesn’t seem to stop her.

 She’s set her sights now the DYAD Research Corporation. And what she wants now is more than jewels. 

She wants information.

 ---

 On the other side of things, Alison Hendrix sits doing paperwork. Her job today is to look over red-light camera photos, see if there are any patterns. It’s _excruciatingly_ boring, but she’d been assigned a temporary job at town hall after the events of the previous case. She figures it’s for the best, even though she wants to get back to Felix (and Beth) as soon as possible.

She sighs, and files away another photo- this one, a snapshot of a red pickup turning _left_ _on a_ _right_ signal. They all look the same by now, and she’s only been at it for a week or so. 

She catches herself thinking that it would be nice if someone crashed or something, just so she’d have something worth looking at. She immediately chastises herself, saying _that’s terrible_ and _stop it_ and _how would you feel_? 

Still. 

\---

“Alison!” Beth calls, bounding into the police station. 

“She’s not here,” McNab says, looking up from a stack of papers. “She’s still on temporary reassignment.”

“Come on, _Ramon_ _,_ ” Beth says. “Still? It’s been like, two weeks. And I wanted to ask her about a case.”

 “It wasn’t my decision, Beth. She’s still at town hall, if you want to visit her or something.”

 Beth sighs dramatically. _“_ _Fine_ _._ I’ll head over.”

 Ten minutes later she’s jogging through the town hall, looking for Alison’s desk.

 “Ali!” 

"Beth?” Alison calls. “What- why are you here?” 

“Do I need a _reason_?” Beth says. “Can’t I just come to visit my friend while she works in this giant post office?”

 “It’s not a post office.” 

“Why are you here anyway? You could’ve come back to the station like five days ago.” 

Alison sighs. “I just need more time, Beth. It’s very common for officers to take some time off after experiencing a … traumatic event.”

 “But Alison! We’ve missed you!” 

“You just want to know if I have any information on the DYAD break-in. By the way, the answer is no. Fel- Officer Dawkins already came by. He told me not to say anything to you.”

 “Are you sure?” Beth half-whines.

 

“I can’t give you any information,” Alison repeats.

“Please? For _me_ …?”

Alison sighs, biting her lip. “I shouldn’t say this, but the, uh, at the crime scene. The thief didn’t take anything traditionally valuable- only research files.”

 “…So?”

“ _So_ , that means this is probably the work of none other than Delphine Cormier. I thought you’d know about her, Beth? She seems like the kind of person you’d look up to. Scientist by day, criminal by night.” 

“Doesn’t matter!” Beth decides. “Delphine Cormier, though! Cool name. French?”

 “Yes.”

 “Nice! Thanks, Ali!” 

Alison groans as Beth skips out, because somehow she’s gotten her to tell her about the case. 

She goes back to filing traffic reports.

…

 The DYAD Corporation is practically in chaos. They’ve contacted the police, sure, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t lost thousands of dollars worth of research on rare respiratory diseases. Plus, one of their scientists was seriously injured in the robbery. And if Cormier has taken these files with malicious intent- well, that’s just the cherry on top. 

Usually, a prestigious group like DYAD wouldn’t hire someone as... off the beaten track. But the police seem to be taking their sweet time even coming out there, so they’ve resorted to drastic measures. 

(Enter Beth Childs.)

 …

 “Sarah, I got us another job! You’re not gonna believe this one. Call me back.” 

Beth hangs up her phone and gets to work on her laptop. If Dawkins had refused to hire her, so be it. He wasn’t the only one who knew how to make strategic phone calls.  She manages to dig up some information on this Delphine Cormier, and is halfway through her arrest record when Sarah calls her. 

“What’s up?” 

“Oh, nothing,” Beth says, trying to act nonchalant. “I just got us a job with the _DYAD Corporation_.” 

“You’re kidding,” Sarah says. 

“Nope! The police wouldn’t let me on the case, so I called them. They were so desperate,  they hired _us_ because the police are so slow. And they’re paying us!” 

“How much?”

 “Ten grand, if we solve it.”

 “Bloody hell, Childs, you better be on it already.” 

“I am, I am! Do you doubt me that much? Hey, I’m at the office, come over here. I want to show you some stuff.”

 Beth hangs up, grinning.

 Sarah bursts through the door exactly twenty-three minutes later (but it’s not like Beth was counting).

 “What d’you got?” she asks, sitting on the couch next to Beth.

 “Delphine Cormier has been arrested four times- she escaped every time. She can get out of anything. She’s like a female, attractive, French, Harry Houdini.”

 “Okay,” Sarah says. “Any idea where she is now?”

“Probably still in the country. DYAD thinks she might be back sometimes soon- they want us to look around. They think that if she’s gonna try again, she’ll try by next Thursday- two weeks after the break-in.” 

“So what are we doing, then? Holding a stakeout every night for two weeks?” 

“I guess.” 

Sarah shrugs. “For ten grand, I’d do bloody anything for two weeks. When do we start?” 

“Tuesday.” 

… 

Sarah is starting to rethink her earlier statement. They’ve been holed up in a surveillances room for six hours, and even Beth is starting to lose motivation.

 “Oh my God,” she groans. “if this Delphine Cormier doesn’t show up soon, I think I’m going to kill someone.” 

Sarah gives a grumble of agreement and returns to fiddling with her phone.

 Nothing happens that night. Beth falls asleep around two AM, and Sarah doesn’t notice until five. She shakes Beth awake, quickly recapping what she’d missed. 

“A lot of nothing,” she concludes. “I saw the janitor a couple times, though.” 

Beth sighs. “I guess we’ll pack up then, come back tonight?” 

“Why did we agree to this job?” is all Sarah says in response. 

Beth doesn’t answer. She’s too busy filling in their “official report log”- all she writes is “nothing” about sixteen times.

 She drives home and crashes on the couch, not even bothering to call Dawkins or Alison first. Her phone rings at six in the evening; Sarah calling to wake her up. 

Nothing happens that night. Or the next. Beth is about to give up when, on the fourth night, Sarah catches something.

 “Did you see that?” she says, her voice startlingly urgent.

 “What?”

 “Screen four,” Sarah says. “Five now- something’s moving.”

 “You think it’s Cormier?”

 “They’re wearing black, Beth. Who else would it be?”

 “Should we confront them or something?” Beth asks. “We can’t just sit here.” 

Sarah nods. “She’ll probably be coming to the labs on the third floor- that’s where she went last time.” 

“Sounds good,” Beth says. They quickly make a plan, and then she’s off. 

Four minutes later, Beth’s crouched just inside the lab, breathing as quietly as possible. Her legs are starting to hurt, and she’s wondering if maybe crouching wasn't the best idea. 

The door opens.

 “Delphine Cormier? 

“Who’s there?” and there’s a gun to Beth’s temple. Beth quickly registers a few things- French accent, slightly taller than herself, thin and agile.

 “I-I’m Elizabeth Childs, and I’m not going to hurt you! I promise! I just want to ask some questions!” 

“It’s two in the morning.”

 “I just- we just want to know why you’re here at, uh, two in the morning. That’s all. No need for the gun.” 

Cormier steps back. “I’m not here to hurt anyone,” she promises. “I’m here… I’m here to help someone.”

 “You’ve broken into a high-security research foundation,” Beth said, her voice still slightly shaky. “And you just held a gun to my head. How is that helpful?”

 “I didn’t want this to happen,” Cormier says. “I just- I wanted the research.  They wouldn’t let me have it, but I had to get it. My… my chéri, my girlfriend- she’s sick.” 

Beth sighs. “There’s a reason, Delphine- can I call you Delphine? Anyway, there’s a reason you couldn’t get it, okay? You’re a scientist, right? You know that it’s not ready, then. It could kill her.” 

“I had to try.” 

“I get that,” Beth says. “People do crazy things for love. But you’re- you almost killed someone. You can’t do that.”

 “It was my only option.”

 “Okay, but that doesn’t make it right. You could go to the police, ask for-”

 “Do you think I didn’t try that?” 

Beth wonders where Sarah is, because she doesn’t have much else to say.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she repeats calmly, but she knows her words are thin. Cormier’s still got her gun in her hand, and her finger’s hovering over the trigger.

 Beth steps forward as she hears footsteps, and then the door slams open. It’s Dawkins and Alison. 

“Delphine Cormier,” Dawkins announces, “you’re under arrest for theft of classified files, and the assault of Scott Smith.” 

“You tricked me!” Cormier gasps.

 “I’m sorry,” Beth says, and she kind of means it.

 At some point, Beth quietly slips out of the room. She’s not sure why, but she sort of feels bad for Delphine Cormier. She doesn’t want to watch her get arrested.

Alison notices a few minutes after Beth leaves. As soon as Dawkins is done with the arrest and is leading Cormier to the lobby, she excuses herself to find Beth. 

She finally comes across Beth on the roof, of all places. 

“You okay?” Alison calls. 

“I’m fine,” Beth says, “I promise.” 

Alison steps forward, and suddenly they’re standing on the roof. Together.

 “Are you sure?”

 “Of course I’m sure.” 

There’s a little bit of a pause, but it’s not awkward. It’s comfortable, easy. 

“I can see my house from here,” Beth says, to lighten up the mood. 

“Can you really?” 

“No,” she admits. “But I can see your car. See it? Over in the corner of the parking lot?” 

“Oh, look at that.” 

“Hey, speaking of cars….” Beth says. She takes a deep breath, and Alison wonders if this is going to be a _speech._

  “You know, when you’re a kid, and you’re first learning how to ride a bike? And- and, your dad’s behind you, holding you up, and you feel like you’re invincible? And then he lets go, and you’re on your own, and you’re still invincible, but everything’s so much scarier?” 

“Beth, what are you trying to say?” Alison asks, cocking her head a little. 

“When I met you, Ali, that was my dad stepping back, and everything was new and scary and exciting. I used to own the city, driving around on that dumb motorcycle like nobody’s business. That motorcycle is the purest form of freedom that I have ever experienced, you know? You zip through traffic, park anywhere; you certainly don't have to help anyone move. Easily the best purchase I have ever made, and I have never regretted it, not for one minute.”

“Okay, you love your motorcycle, but is there an actual point?” 

“Since I met you, Alison….I’ve been thinking about getting a car.” 

“A- a car?” 

“That sounded better in my head,” Beth says. “God, sorry, I-” 

“No, that’s actually really sweet.”

 Suddenly, Alison’s kissing her. 

They’re kissing. On a roof. Beth’s pretty sure the sun is rising, and she wonders if this could get any more cliché. 

Beth has no idea what to do with her hands. She eventually settles on Alison’s waistline. _Alison’s kissing her._

 It lasts twenty seconds, or maybe an eternity. Beth’s breathless when they pull apart, and she can feel the flush in her cheeks. 

“We can’t- we can’t be together,” Alison says quickly.

“Why not?”

 “I don’t- I’m not- no one _knows,_ okay? I’ve only ever had boyfriends, and if people find out, I…” 

“Alison,” Beth says, dropping a quick kiss on Alison’s cheek. “Ali, _no one cares_. I mean, obviously _I_ care, but like, it’s twenty fourteen, you know? It’ll be fine. We’ll make it work. You’ll be okay.” 

“You’re sure.” 

“Certain.” 

Alison nods, wiping the tears in her eyes. “We should probably, uh, find Felix?”

 “Yeah. That’d be good.” 

Beth lags a bit behind Alison, sending a text to Sarah.` 

_accidentally kissed alison. now she’s my girlfriend????_

_call me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow! i finally hit 10 thousand words! if you're still reading, thank you!
> 
> (comments/feedback appreciated!)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roller derby. An unruly polygraph machine. Puns.

 Sarah calls Beth that night, as soon as she gets Beth’s message. 

“Dude.” 

Beth is confused for a moment. “What?” 

“I just got your text. Alison?” 

“Oh. Yeah.” 

“So, you guys are dating now?”

“I guess,” Beth says. “Isn’t it great? We’re going out Friday.”

They talk a while longer, their conversation mostly repeating what’s already been said. Eventually, Beth hangs up, after a final “Can you believe this? Me. Dating Alison. Dude.”

Beth, surprisingly, doesn’t see Alison until Friday. There haven’t been any cases since the Cormier incident, and Beth’s life has been more or less uneventful. She’s talked to Sarah a few times, and she’s at least called Alison every day.

She wakes up Friday morning, and her first thought is that she has a date. She hasn’t had a date in – what is it? Six months? Sarah had started to get on her about being single forever.

Beth texts Alison as she eats breakfast.

 _hey. we still on for 2nite????_  

Alison responds only a few minutes later.

 _Sure. I will pick you up at eight?_  

 _sounds good_  

Beth puts down her phone, grinning.  Alison texts again about an hour later.

 _Sorry, Beth I have to cancel on the date. Something’s come up._  

Beth doesn’t reply for a few minutes, and her phone chimes again before she can text back.

 _Actually, I just talked to Detective Dawkins. They want you at the station. Bring Sarah._  

There’s already quite a few people in the briefing room when Beth and Sarah arrive. Chief Bell is standing at the front, pointing at a picture projected onto the wall.

“What happened?” Beth says, finding her way to Alison. “A girl was found dead behind a department store last night,” Alison whispers.

“And there aren’t any leads? And where’s Dawkins?”

“Over there,” Alison says, pointing. “And no, we haven’t found any leads.” 

“Okay, but like, what actually happened?” 

Apparently Beth isn’t talking as quietly as she had hoped, because Chief Bell coughs and starts talking over her. 

“For those who have just joined us, a girl was found murdered last night behind a department store here in Toronto.” 

“Are there security tapes?” Beth asks, raising her hand. 

“Well, yes, but-” 

“Can I see them?” 

Chief Bell makes her wait until the briefing is over, but soon after Beth and Sarah are crowded around the chief’s laptop with Alison and Dawkins. 

The video’s quality isn’t that great, and Beth can’t see anyone’s face, but she can tell a few things. The video shows the victim leaving her shift that night through the back door, heading to where the staff park. As she leaves, a figure moves toward her, holding something- a gun? In any case, the victim is dead within minutes. 

“The killer is a woman,” she announces, raising a finger to her temple. There’s something about the way the murder _moved,_ though, that has Beth’s mind whirling.  “And I’m getting something else. Skate… skateboards? No. Roller skates? Roller derby? Are there any roller derby teams around here?”  

 A few minutes and three database searches later, Dawkins has come up with four local derby teams. One of them is reigning Canadian champions. And sure enough, the girl who was murdered is on one of them- the champions, even.

“And only one of the teams didn’t have a match the night of the murder?” Alison says. 

“Right,” The Chief says.

 “So, what next?” Dawkins asks. 

Beth turns to Alison. “Do you know how to skate?” 

“I’m sorry?’ 

“I said, do you know how to skate? If you go undercover, you could-” 

“I’m not going undercover,” Alison says quickly. “I haven’t skated since junior derby in seventh grade.” 

“Would you rather Dawkins go undercover?” Beth says sarcastically. 

They bicker for a few more minutes, with Alison eventually agreeing. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” the chief asks. “It’s not too dangerous?” 

“I can do it,” Alison promises. 

“Childs, I want you at every one of the matches. Get a reading on as many of the players as possible.” 

“Got it.” 

The chief goes over a few more specifics- when, where, how- before dismissing their little group. 

“Now, Alison, your first practice is next Tuesday. You have to be there.” 

“Got it,” Alison says, nodding. 

Alison gets out of her seat first, eager to leave. 

“What’s up?” Beth asks. 

“The department’s giving me money to buy skates and everything. Do you know how cute some skate are? I think I’ll go to the mall and-” 

Beth essentially tunes out the conversation after that, although she’s happy enough to listen to how bright Alison’s voice is. (Honestly, she’s also thinking about Alison in short shorts and a tank top.) 

…

 Alison walks (hobbles) into the rink a little nervously, and not just because she hasn’t been on skates since high school. These girls are intimidating- only one is shorter than Alison, and they all look like they could eat her for breakfast. 

“You the new girl?” one of them calls out. She’s probably six inches taller than Alison, and she looks tough. Alison gulps.

 “Uh- yeah,” Alison says.

 “I’m Chloe, but they call me ‘Miss Andry’.” Alison has to chuckle at that. Chloe points at another girl, the shortest member of the team. “Over there is Heather- otherwise known as ‘Princess Slaya.’- she’s a _huge_ geek. And Lisa- she’s just Lisafer.” 

“Are all- are all of your names… puns?” 

“Most of them, yeah.” Chloe laughs. “What do they call you?” 

Alison half-panics. “Oh, um, I’m- I’m… Arts and Crash?” It comes out as a question, and Alison forces herself not to wince. Could she have come up with anything lamer? 

Chloe, though, laughs. “Arts and Crash. Nice.” 

“So, we’re taking things easy today, right?” Alison says. “Don’t want anyone getting hurt in practice.” 

Chloe looks at Alison, her expression a little weird. “That’s the idea. But if someone’s nose has to get broken, well, just make sure it isn’t yours.” 

Alison gulps and skates onto the track. They don’t tell her any of the rules. It’s a good thing she spent hours reading Wikipedia last night. 

….

 “Did you find anything?” Beth asks, pulling into the drive-through.

 “Not yet, but there are a couple girls who are definitely suspicious.” 

“Like who? And do you want something?” 

“Um, this girl Chloe, for one. She _seems_ nice, but there’s something up, you know? And Lisa. And Jordan. Those are the ones that stood out, I think. Oh, and no thanks- I have to be healthier if I’m going to be in shape for the bout on Saturday.”

Beth laughs. “Alison, you already eat like a bird, but if that’s how you want to be...” She orders herself a burger and fries, and she eats them as loudly as possible on their way to the station. 

Alison and Beth have a quick meeting with the chief, Alison relaying everything she’d found out and Beth jumping in with useless comments. It doesn’t take very long, and soon they’re getting up to leave. 

“Hendrix?” 

“Hmm?” 

“This must be a typo, right?” the chief says, looking down at a printed paper. “Two hundred dollars for a pair of skates?” 

Alison gulps, biting her lip. “Would it help if I told you that the other pairs weren’t cute at all?” 

The chief sighs. “You better get some damn results, Childs,” she says, now looking at Beth. 

“Of course,” Beth says, nodding.

 Alison and Beth walk out of the chief’s office giggling like twelve-year-olds. Beth leans over to kiss Alison’s cheek, muttering something about how cute she is. Alison blushes profusely, but for once she doesn’t push Beth away. 

“See you later?” Beth says. “I gotta pick up Sarah from a thing. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” Alison promises. She kisses Beth goodbye and turns to go to her own desk, but is interrupted by Officer Dawkins. 

“Something up, Felix?” she asks. 

“Oh, nothing,” he replies. “I just wanted to know if you could help me with something?”

 “Sure, what is it?” Alison says, a little wary.

 “The, uh, the polygraph isn’t working, and I need someone to test it. It won’t take more than ten minutes. Honest.” 

“Okay then,” she says, following Dawkins downstairs. 

It only takes a few seconds to get all the necessary hooks and wires set up. 

“What is your name?” Dawkins asks, sitting behind the machine. 

“Alison Hendrix.” 

“Good, no sign of deception,” Dawkins murmurs. 

“See? It’s working just fine,” Alison says.

“No, no, no, just one more question…. What’s a good test? Oh, got one- Are you currently dating anyone?”

 Alison doesn’t answer. “Take your time, we have all day,” Dawkins says. 

“I don’t understand how this has to do with anything,” Alison says. 

“It’s just a control question, Hendrix. You and I both know you’re not dating anyone, right? All you have to do is answer honestly- unless, of course, you are dating someone?” 

“I don’t have time for this,” Alison fumbles.

 She stands up, beginning to take off all the wires from the machine. 

“Okay, I’ll ask a different question. Are you, or have you ever been, in a romantic relationship with anyone at the station?”

 “Now that’s a completely different question,” Alison says. 

“Answer either one.” 

Alison just gasps exasperatedly. “Your machine works fine,” she says, turning to leave.

 On second thought, that probably _wasn’t_ the best idea to convince Dawkins that she isn’t dating anyone. 

Whatever. She gets out her phone to call Beth. Maybe they can have that date night tonight.

 …

 “Don’t be too obvious!” Alison says. “You’re an audience member, not my girlfriend. Just at the bout.” 

“You consider me your girlfriend now? Sweet.” 

“Shut up, Beth,” she says, but she’s laughing, so Beth isn’t really offended.

 “ _Anyway,_ you’re supposed to check out the derby girls, see if any of them give off any psychic vibes. That’s it.” 

“Sounds good,” Beth says. 

Even Dawkins shows up at the bout, “purely for investigation purposes,” (no one believes that).

 Beth doesn't really pay attention to the actual bout. Sure, she has a vague idea of what’s going on, but between “reading” (staring, mostly) at the girls and talking to Sarah, Beth is pretty much lost. She’s pretty sure she’s not going to find anything, until her eyes drift over to a sign hanging over the back hallway.

 “I've got an idea,” she says suddenly. “Dude, be my cover.” 

Sarah gets up and follows her, confused. They quickly end up outside of the locker room. 

“I’m gonna go in, see if anything gives off any signals.” 

“Beth, you realize that you’re not actually psychic, right?” 

“Just watch the door!” Beth says, slipping into the locker room. She begins scanning the lockers and the benches for anything out of place. Nothing really jumps out at her at first. It’s pretty general locker-room stuff. Clothes left in loose piles on the benches, nametags on the lockers in various “punk” fonts – _Sarah would appreciate some of these,_ Beth thinks. 

She notices a crumpled piece of paper on the floor. It must have fallen out of somebody’s pocket. On it, numbers are written in a barely-legible scrawl- 1, 0, 3, 2, 1, 1, 1, 2, 0, 0. 

Beth rummages through a couple bags before finally finding a pen in an old pink backpack. She quickly copies the numbers onto her arm and tries to set everything back in its place.

 “Did you find anything?” Sarah asks.

 “Yeah- I think it’s a phone number,” Beth says.

The bout ends about ten minutes after Beth and Sarah get back to the stands. 

Beth cheers too loudly when Alison scores a point, causing weird looks from quite a few people in the crowd. She quiets down quickly, clapping with everyone else. 

After the bout ends, Alison skates over to Beth and Sarah. 

“Did you get anything?” she asks. 

“Not from the people, but I’m definitely getting something. Not quite sure yet. Numbers.” Beth says. 

Alison starts to give a response, but Chloe comes up behind her. “These girls giving you trouble?” she asks. 

“No, I’m fine,” Alison assures her. “She was just telling me how awesome it was when I smashed that girl into the ground.”

 “Yep,” Beth says. “ _Totally_ badass.”

 Chloe laughs. “If you say so.”

 There are a few more things- goodbyes, you-were-awesomes, planning the next practice (but with any luck, Alison won’t need to go to a next practice). 

They drive back to the station in relative silence. Sarah’s driving, and so they’re listening to music nobody has ever heard of. Alison is talking about how _great_ it is to be able to just _hit_ people sometimes – “it’s better than therapy,” she says. Beth laughs, and she is lucky Alison’s her girlfriend, because holy wow she looks good in a tank top and short shorts. 

Beth kisses her and even Sarah doesn’t say anything. 

…. 

“Numbers!”  Beth shouts. “I’m getting numbers! A phone number? 103…..211…. 1200? Can you search that?” she asks. Dawkins begins typing on his computer. Beth holds her breath. 

“Hold on… Sorry. Nothing’s coming up.” 

Beth mentally kicks herself. _Dammit._ “Okay! Not a phone number! That’s not right anyway, I’m getting something else? It’s unclear, though. It’s- it’s-” 

She goes over the numbers in her mind, trying to find something that makes sense. Luckily, it only takes her a few seconds. “-an address? 1032 11th... Street? Avenue?”

 “There’s an 11thAvenue around here,” Ramon McNab offers. “Actually, my mother lives on 11th-” 

“Thank you, Ramon!” Beth says, effectively cutting him off. 

“What about the last four numbers?” Dawkins asks, obviously skeptical. 

“1200,” Beth says. “Midnight! It’s the time.”  She really hopes it wasn’t noon.

 “Yeah, but what _happens_ at noon?”

 “I don’t know,” Beth says. “The spirits are foggy on that one.” 

“What’s so important about the address?” Alison says. 

Dawkins types in a few more things. “Someone named Carrie Edwards?”

 “Oh, my God,” Alison says. “Bloody Carrie?”

 “You know her?” Dawkins asks. 

“I know _of_ her. She’s like, the star jammer on the West Toronto team. They've been champions for like, two years in a row. I heard one of the girls today saying they could kill her for a chance to win some tournament coming up- it’s international, and apparently there’s some huge cash prize for the winner..”

 “They could… kill her?” Beth says. “Do you think any of them actually would?”

 Alison pales. “Oh, um, I’m not sure. They all seem pretty nice, but, uh, they could all use the money.” 

“And do you even know when this is supposed to happen?” Dawkins asks.

 “Uh, no. But we can assume it’s going to be Thursday. That’s when Carrie’s next bout is.” Alison says unsurely. 

“It’s better than nothing,” Beth says. 

Not much happens before Thursday. Alison goes to one more practice, and confirms that Carrie Edwards lives in West Toronto, and that she’s in a bout on Thursday. The way the other girls talk about her- she’s pretty sure this was a good idea. 

Thursday night, Alison gets a text from Chloe.

_hey. you up 4  something 2night?_

Alison replies, _Sure. What is it?_

 _it’s a surprise. consider it an initiation. meet me @ 1032 11 th_ _st @ midnight_. 

Alison takes a deep breath.

  _I’ll be there._

She immediately calls Beth. “Something’s up. Chloe wants me to meet her at Carrie Edwards’ house at midnight.” 

“You better go, then.”

 “I’m going to!” 

Alison leaves at eleven-thirty. She’s wearing a big fluffy coat to hide the bulletproof vest Dawkins gave her, but that doesn't make her less nervous. 

“You’ll be fine,” Beth promises. “Go get ‘em.” 

Beth and Dawkins wait in a car across the street, the windows tinted. They watch Alison stand nervously for a few minutes before another car rolls up and Chloe gets out. 

“Hey, Crash! You actually came.” 

“Of course I did,” Alison says. “So, uh, what are we actually doing here? Is this someone’s house?” 

“Let’s just say we’re… winning that championship.” 

“How?” 

“Well, if Bloody Carrie can’t skate, we’ve pretty much got it.”

 “What are we doing?” Alison repeats. 

Chloe flashes a gun hidden in her waistband. “Don’t scream- it’ll earn you a couple grand to keep quiet.” 

When Chloe turns around, Alison sends a quick text to Beth’s phone. _Gun!!!_

“I- I can’t do this,” Alison says. 

“C’mon,” Chloe jeers. “You don’t even have to do anything, really. Just distract her when she comes home from the bout.” 

Alison takes a deep breath. She follows Chloe to the side of the house, where they crouch to wait. After a while, Carrie’s car parks in the driveway. Chloe stands, her hand on her belt, but Alison’s ahead of her.

 “Chloe Garcia, I’m going to need you to drop the gun,” Alison says, drawing her own pistol.

 “What? Are you-” 

Dawkins and Beth come running across the lawn. Beth says behind to assure Carrie that everything is fine, and that the police aren’t there for her.

 “I’ll take it from here, Officer Hendrix.” 

“Officer? Are you a _cop_?” 

“The only thing that matters is that you’re going to be charged with one count of murder and one count attempted murder.” 

“That’s crazy! I was just-” 

“You’re holding a gun,” Beth points out, jogging up to the group. 

Chloe continues grumbling and arguing while Dawkins leads her, handcuffed, back to the police car. Beth goes with Alison back to her wn car.

 “So, what next?” Alison asks. 

Beth grins, getting into the passenger seat. 

“How about that date?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! sorry this took so long to update! feedback is appreciated :)


End file.
